A Second Coming
by ladylazarus13
Summary: Tom and his family have been trying to lead normal lives since the death of Hyde, but is Hyde really gone?


It started out as an itch.

It began as a strange prickling sensation that ran its way down Tom's chest. He hadn't been concerned about it, scratching was enough to ease it away, but then it began to burn. It happened just as he sat down at the dinner table. It happened right as he slipped off his shoes.

Every night since the incident at Utterson and Klein things had slowly begun to set themselves right. The children had seemed to adjust well to having their father at home again, only asking questions about Uncle Billy occasionally. Eddie seemed to be the most curious on where Billy had gone. One night after supper, he climbed up on the couch next to Tom, and grabbed Tom's face between his tiny little hands, "Where is my other Daddy?"

Hearing this, Claire quickly scooped Eddie up into her arms. "Let's get you to bed, sweet heart. Harry come on, you too." Harry dragged his feet after them, grumbling as they made their way upstairs.

They hadn't talked about Hyde much, if at all, and certainly not to the children. He was gone, and maybe someday they would discuss it, but it felt too soon, too traumatizing for everyone. For now, they wanted to concentrate on being a normal family with a normal father.

But things could never be that easy could it?

Tom found himself hunched over the bathroom sink, wheezing as he tried to take deep, even breaths. His throat was swelling, his body was sweating, and trembling uncontrollably as he grasped the edges of the porcelain sink. It felt like he was being burned alive, the heat emanating from his chest, burning its way up from his blood to melt his skin. Tom clawed at his shirt, ripping it open, the tiny white buttons bouncing across the tiled floor. Tom turned to the full length mirror on the bathroom door, and stared in shock at his reflection. There seemed to be hundreds of welts all over his chest, the raised red bumps stinging to the touch.

He ran over to the shower stall, jerked the handle into position before jumping into the stream of freezing water. He could hear Claire knocking, begging him to open the door, but he didn't want to move away from that spot. Soon all noise seemed to fade away, left with his thoughts and the dull sound of water gurgling down the drain.

They would be eating dinner right now. They would be laughing, and chatting about their day. Tom would tell Eddie and Harry to eat their vegetables. Claire would sip slowly at her glass of red wine, giving him the occasional suggestive smirk. Instead, he sat in the middle of their bathroom stall letting the cold water wash over him, the pain slowly easing away.

After all, there had to be some damage.

.

There had been signs. Signs Tom had wanted to ignore, and brush away as his imagination playing tricks. Hyde was dead, he had to stay dead. The children, and Claire may have come, to some extent to accept his former alter ego, but Tom hadn't. This was his family. _His._

At first there was the humming. Sometimes they were old songs Tom had long forgotten, or songs he couldn't place. Catchy tunes he'd find himself smiling over. One night Claire heard him humming from the bathroom as he shaved, and walked right up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She left a light trail of kisses down his neck, "Remember we played that song on our wedding night...and a few nights after that."

There was another song that was always on the tip of his tongue. He finally found out what it was while having what Claire called a "boy's night". Harry wanted to watch the Lion King, and Eddie wanted to watch the sequel, so they sat back and with a bowl of popcorn deciding to view them back to back. It was at the very beginning of the Lion King 2 when he recognized what he'd been humming almost every day. _He lives in you..._ Tom felt like he was going to be sick, while the animated animals pranced around on the screen, and the song grew in intensity. Though he sat and watched the rest of the movie with the boys, he felted unnerved. There had to be an explanation for it. Wasn't there?

"_But Daddy...I do have my pride."_

_._

Then there were the dreams. Maybe memories. Were they memories? Certainly not his. He dreamed of candles flickering, and blood pooling on the ground. There were dreams of women. They were women Tom had never met them before, but there was a sense of familiarity with each one. They all had some feature of Claire's. One woman in the smokiness of the bar had her lips. One woman was bent over, and as he pounded into her, a fistful of hair between his fingers, he realized she had long curls like Claire's. One woman was chained to a bed, and with a mixture of fear and excitement stared back at him with Claire's eyes.

_"Oh, Daddy, you're spoiling me."_

It wasn't him though. That was never him.

.

There were times when dreams and reality would meld together, interweave themselves. Tom had dreamed of the bullets piercing his skin. The burn they left behind as they made their way into his organs, shattering his bones. Tom would wake up coughing violently, tears streaming down his cheeks, and Claire would rush to get him a glass of water.

He would cough.

Cough.

Cough.

Till he felt blood on his hands.

Hacking something up,

that pushed up his throat

and when it finally left

his lips

in the middle of his palm

it was a bullet.

The minute he looked away from his trembling hand, the blood and the bullet would be gone. The dream only occurred three times, but that was enough to make Tom doubt he'd be alone in his own head forever.

"_Why am I not a Superman?"_

Sometimes he heard Hyde. Whispering between daybreak and nightfall. Tom could hear Hyde when he happened to look up at the night sky and see the moon full and bright. If he didn't feel like a bloody werewolf before, he certainly did then. When staring at the moon it was then he could hear Hyde laughing, practically see his mouth covered in blood and a smile.

There was a small, faint part of him that enjoyed it.

.

No.

He was mistaken. It didn't start with an itch. It truly began when he and Claire found themselves in bed, ripping off whatever clothing was in reach. It had been the first time they had made love in months. They had skated around it since the incident, but they wanted each other, that was apparent. It was in the way they'd look at each other across a crowded room, even the dinner table. When Tom even brushed against Claire, he felt overwhelmed, but when he held her close he felt something electrifying. For a long time Tom couldn't place that feeling, but that night when he had kissed every part of her, made her call out his name in breathy whispers, and screams that echoed off the walls, he finally figured it out. When he touched Claire there was something so primal, so instinctive, but it was something else as well: It was love. It was everything he had ever been reborn in the arms of this woman.

When they had settled into each others arms, tired and satisfied that was when he heard it.

"_Oh Daddy...you let me peek."_


End file.
